


big kepler

by mildlydiscouraging



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty - Fandom
Genre: At least on my part, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene, Musings on Mortality, The Adventure Zone: Amnesty, This is my OC his name is Rodney he is nice - Freeform, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, pre-finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13945098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlydiscouraging/pseuds/mildlydiscouraging
Summary: Duck gets in his truck, takes the longest route possible, and still finds himself in the wrong place. And yet it just might end up being right where he needs to be.





	big kepler

Duck really does leave the lodge intending to do something, waving once to Ned, who is unlocking his own car to follow, on his way out of the lot. He gets halfway to the Cryptonomicon, though, before that weird fog starts to take over. The voice of instinctive reason he's been relying on more and more lately makes him pull over into the grocery parking lot, turning off the engine and sitting there for a long moment before getting out.

But it's like everything has been turned just a few degrees around. Everything is showing a slightly different side, a side much more fragile and corporeal than before. He passes Shirley, the temp from City Hall, and she smiles and waves, and he smiles and waves back reflexively, but his heart's not in it because his head's somewhere else.

Everyone is so... vulnerable now. It's not that Duck was previously unaware of the fleetingness of human life—you can't spend all day surrounded by the reality of nature like he does without accepting the circle of life—but the smothering feeling of absolute powerlessness in the face of the unknown that dogged him through the years is back with a seriousness that makes it hard to swallow. The streets are full of sunlit people who are totally oblivious to the fact that they could be gone in a second, snack to something Other.

When Duck blinks again he finds his feet have carried him to the library of all places and yeah, he should have known. Standing right outside the door there's a moment of question, of fear of what will happen if he enters with this new mortality centered view of life and sees him, but the second his hand touches the work out brass of the handle its grounding enough to get him to push open the door. That mortality transforms itself in a moment just long enough to propel him over the threshold, like he's been carped by some diem, the fear of death taking him by the collar and dragging him inside to finally do something, and sure as nothing else is in Duck's world right now, there's Rodney, right where he ought to be.

Rodney Mercer, average, human, super mortal, student council treasurer three years in a row, Duck's lifelong partner in (metaphorical) crime and probably also the love of his life, if he's being honest, and if he can't be honest here when the world as he thought he knew it was coming apart at the seams, when can he?

If there's anyone who's his best friend it's Rodney. Semi-unfortunately. Duck doesn't... Well, it's not that he's not friendly. Duck actually prides himself in being a pretty easygoing guy that people will smile and wave to when they pass him on the street, the kind of person who learns the names of cashiers and mail carriers and all, but he's also kind of a loner. He's friendly without the friends part, with the exception of Rodney, which makes him sort of Duck's best friend by default.

And it's not even that they're really friends! They are a little, in that they occupied neighboring stools at the counter at Wright's regularly enough to get to actually talking. Sure, now there's other nights at other places, talking and sitting quietly, and when sometimes comes looking for a history book with only some vague piece of history that Rodney can't place he'll call Duck, and Duck comes over to help Rodney re-paint the porch swing that belongs out front of the library and they drink lemonade and watch kids chase each other with their bikes up and down the street. And maybe sometimes when it's just Duck and his cat and whatever he's reading that night, y'know, maybe he thinks it would be nice to have someone sitting next to him in bed, someone with a penchant for stupid colors of flannel who gets at least one splinter every day and is allergic to strawberries, before turning over and shutting off the light.

So maybe they are friends, in a gradual, unobtrusive way that he didn't notice happening. All that Duck can think about now, though, is how there's only so many times he can tell himself not to think about it tonight before there aren’t any tonights left, and he lets go of the door, the sound of it swinging shut making Rodney turn.

"Hey there Duck," Rodney says, familiar easy sideways smile on his face, and if Duck hadn't already decided what he was going to do that would have sealed the deal. He walks up, almost outside his body with determination, and takes Rodney's face in his hands and finally kisses him already.

It's not the greatest, most-world-shattering-est kiss in and of itself—it's nice but almost perfunctory, definitely not "top ten kisses of all time" material. But that's already because that's not the point. It's not about the kiss itself, it's about... what it means. The existence of it is what's life-changing, so to speak, not the experience of it. To be fair, Duck maybe goes a little weak at the knees when Rodney reciprocates, but it's been a while, okay? And honestly, just the act of kissing his closest friend is enough to cause that in and of itself. The fact that it's a pretty good kiss is just... icing on the proverbial cake.

"I have to, uh," Duck doesn't clear his throat, because this isn't a made-for-TV-movie, it doesn't have to be that big a deal. "I have something I have to do tonight, out by the caves, but there's some shit I need to tell you, and I guess we should probably talk about this too, so maybe I'll meet you at Wright's around eight?"

Rodney nods easily and Duck realizes that his hands are still on Rodney's face, and that's kind of awkward, but almost more nice than awkward. Really nice, actually. Rodney's skin is really warm, and there's this divot in one of his cheeks that Duck's never really noticed but his thumb seeks out immediately.

"Sure, Duck," Rodney says, and that's his thumb on Duck's elbow, a reassuring back-and-forth.

Duck feels himself flush, inexplicably and viscerally aware of every blood vessel making it's way up to his face, through his wrists, through his throat, through every most vulnerable part. Or what should be the most vulnerable—Duck can't help but reconsider how high the face ranks because smiling has never been more exposing.

Rodney Mercer, in his worn flannel, worn black jeans, worn class ring, worn familiar smile. Sanded down by age, all of them, but still around. Still able to change, and adapt, and yeah. Duck can do this.

The drive to the Cryptonomicon seems to take no time at all, a handful of long moments watching the trees flick past. Every once in a while peeks of the Greenbrier, flashing in the sunlight, make it through the undergrowth. Duck passes an old Forester parked on the shoulder with parents and kids and towels and coolers headed for the water. Their laughter slips in Duck's open window and lingers even as he's long gone and pulling into the gravel out front of Ned's.

Ned is, of course, already there, leaning back against his car and dramatically tipping his sunglasses and raising an eyebrow when Duck rolls up.

"Took you long enough," he says as Duck steps out of the truck.

"Had to take care of some unfinished business," Duck says, and Ned smirks.

"Last hurrahs?"

"Mm. More like firsts."

Ned gives him that look that Duck knows means he will not being hearing the last of this, assuming neither of them die in the next few hours. He's kind of okay with that, actually, and just a little bit of the whatever it is that Minerva keeps trying to tell him has been "inside him all along" starts pumping again. It feels like stretching out a stiff joint. It feels... good.

"Alright," Ned says with one cartoonishly raised eyebrow. "You ready for this?"

He can kiss Rodney Mercer. This is nothing by comparison.

"Yeah." Duck straightens imperceptibly, his shirt settling better on his shoulders. "I'm ready."

**Author's Note:**

> "keaton, this show is over, it's been over for a while, why are you only just now—" shhhhhh shh shh shh shh we're only here cuz i wrote this a month ago and then got too busy to finish it. but!!! it's spring break!!! so the five fics that’ve been in my drafts since december will finally see the sun!!
> 
> re: the title—y'all know big eden? it's that. literally that's... the entire purpose of this fic, i just wanted some big eden nice vibes cuz i woke up at four and when i did my usual "put on the bright sessions until i pass out again" the second episode that shuffled up was safe house pt. ii so i had a panic attack and wrote this instead. cheers!
> 
> also this is the first time i've ever. made an oc. for an est universe but also in general i guess? he's not even fleshed out at all but like. pls be nice lmao. and if you wanna write about rodney for some unfathomable reason PLEASE feel free to do so and tag me!!!!!! i would LOVE to hear your thoughts omg
> 
> ("now keaton, i see here that you wrote a lot of specifics about the natural beauty of west virginia" yes, well, i'm a fucking manchurian candidate—you say "greenbrier" once and that switch in my brain is flipped on forever. i know griffin mentioned snowshoe and green bank and them but this 1000% alderson, fuck it, my city now)
> 
> ETA 29/3: WHAT’S UP BITCHES WE’RE BACK HUH
> 
> tumblr @[moonfullofstars](http://moonfullofstars.tumblr.com)  
> ko-fi @[mildlydiscouraging](https://ko-fi.com/mildlydiscouraging)


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